The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1)

by Archer, CJ

  A scream. High, nerve splitting, and filled with terror.

  "Adelaide!" Jacob disappeared.

  Lights came on inside the house. Adelaide screamed again. Another, higher scream joined hers—Lady Preston's?

  Oh God oh God oh God. I raced down the stairs and banged on the servants' door, praying someone was in the service area, hoping they heard me.

  "Open—!" A hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my shout. I was wrenched back up the stairs to street level, my attacker dragging me. My heels scraped against the stone steps as I tried to stand. Then I was shoved against the wall of the house. My head hit the stucco and a jolt of pain ripped through my skull. The night turned blacker for a moment but I fought against the fog trying to cloud my brain. Someone held me upright with an iron-clawed grip, stopping me from sliding to the ground.

  My vision cleared. A face loomed over me like a moon in the murky night. I didn't recognize it but it was familiar nevertheless. He had the same drooping eyes and small mouth as Maree Finch.

  Tommy.

  "Let me go," I said. "Please."

  Finch laughed, baring two rows of crooked teeth like old headstones. "Who's gonna make me? You?" He leaned in, his wide, white face close to mine. His breath, hair and his very skin reeked of ale and cigar smoke, sweat and something worse. I retched. That only made him laugh harder. "This the girl who can see ghosts, eh?" Was he talking to me or someone else? I tried to look past him but he was too big and the night too dark. "Looks like a mad thing." He sniffed my hair. And he thought I was the mad one.

  Suddenly the sound of glass shattering filled the air. Finch pulled back, glanced up. "Christ," he muttered.

  I followed his gaze just in time to see Jacob and a man dressed in servant’s livery of scarlet breeches and coat falling from a high window. They were locked in battle and they fell together amidst a shower of glass, hurtling towards the footpath.

  My heart leapt into my throat. I screamed. More screams echoed mine from inside the house.

  It took me a moment to remember Jacob could not be harmed by such a fall. But his companion would not be so lucky.

  I was wrong. The two hit the ground as one. Their impact sent a shudder along the pavement and cracked it open like an eggshell. Jacob sprang up immediately and to my surprise, so did the other man. It was as if they'd not just fallen several stories onto stone.

  That’s when I noticed Finch muttering behind me. I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying even though his mouth was right near my ear, but I didn’t think he spoke English.

  Before I had a chance to guess at the language, my attention was drawn back to Jacob. He and the other man hurled themselves at each other like two beasts in the ring, using their bodies as weapons. Their chests slammed, shoulders hunched and heaved. Fists smashed into flesh. Flesh that wasn’t like any flesh I knew—it didn’t smack like real skin and no bones crunched. No blood was spilled.

  The servant dove at Jacob, forcing him to the ground. Together they rolled into the circle of light cast by a street lamp and that's when I saw his face.

  No, not face...faces. It constantly changed, forming and reforming into people I recognized and some I didn't—Finch, Blunt, Jacob, Adelaide, Lady and Lord Preston...

  It was the demon, shifting shape as it fought.

  Oh God, no. How could Jacob defeat a demon? From my discussions with George, I knew they were strong and that killing them was almost impossible and required a special Otherworldly blade. I also knew that being a supernatural creature meant the demon could tear Jacob’s soul from his body. It could destroy his essence, obliterate him from this world and every other.

  It could turn him into nothing.

  I tried to get closer but Finch jerked me back. He was still muttering under his breath, the strange, poetic words blending together, sliding off his tongue. He was directing the creature—the demon—controlling it as it fought Jacob.

  I struggled against him but his grip was too strong. He hissed in between his strange mutterings then looked over his other shoulder into the murkiness of the nearby alley. Something moved in the shadows. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed through the dense fog and I saw the flap of a coat before it was swallowed up by the night.

  Finch grunted and bunched his fist into my cloak. He stopped chanting long enough to utter, "Soft-bellied toff." Did he mean me, or the person from the alley? Had someone been there or was it just a trick of light or my imagination?

  Finch jerked me forward only to shove me back against the iron railing separating the pavement from the servants' stairs. Pain spiked down my spine as I almost toppled over the waist-high barrier onto the steps below. He stood in front of me now, his fist still bunching my cloak at my throat, but he was watching the fight. I followed his gaze and cringed as the demon’s fist smashed into Jacob’s mouth. On an ordinary human it would have knocked out teeth but it had little effect on Jacob.

  Even so, I felt sick to my stomach. My heart had stopped beating the moment I saw him falling from the window and it felt like it had not restarted. If his soul was taken tonight by the demon, I didn’t think it would ever beat again.

  The demon punched Jacob once more and he reeled back from the force. Steadying himself, he ran at the creature as if he was still fresh and his fist connected with the demon’s chin. How long could this go on? Would either of them tire?

  I had to do something. Had to. Before the demon destroyed Jacob.

  The amulet! With all the action, I’d almost forgotten about it. But Finch’s big paw at my throat cut off access. I tried to pull away but my movement drew his attention and his fist tightened in my cloak. He snarled, baring teeth, and his mouth twisted into a gruesome smile.

  With his focus on me and not the fight, the demon slowed, allowing Jacob to get in three quick, hard punches on the demon’s chin, sending it reeling back into the shadows. He glanced at me for the first time since he'd fallen from the window. His eyes widened. His features seemed to collapse in on themselves.

  "Emily!" His shout split the air.

  Finch spun round and spoke in the strange language again. The demon flew out of the shadows and shoved Jacob back into the lamp post. The iron pole bent from the force.

  "Jacob!" I struggled against Finch but it was useless. I was so weak by comparison, so useless. I couldn’t get to the amulet. Couldn’t get away. Couldn’t do anything.

  "Emily?" It was Adelaide. She and her father had emerged from the house, wrapped in thick coats with fur collars. Lord Preston's attention focused on the demon and what he thought of that I couldn't make out in the darkness. It must seem terribly peculiar, the creature with its changing faces fighting an invisible foe.

  Two footmen joined them on the landing, pistols cocked. Lord Preston also held a long sword, its blade gleaming even in the dull light cast by the lamp Adelaide held. She seemed not to know where to look, first at me, then at the demon, then at her father.

  One of the servants aimed his pistol at the demon.

  "That won't do anything," I said.

  "Shut up!" Finch slapped me across the face. It stung. I bit down against the pain and shook off the dizziness.

  "Father, do something!" shouted Adelaide.

  Lord Preston turned to me, his face like thunder. But there was a hint of confusion there too. He said nothing, gave no orders, and I decided he must be attempting to make sense of what he saw or he'd have taken charge already. His fingers flexed around the sword hilt. It was the sort of weapon found on library walls or behind glass cabinets, all gold and shiny metal with a tassel hanging from the hilt. It had probably never been used.

  "Call the police!" I shouted and kicked out at Finch's shins.

  He slapped me again. My head buzzed like a hive full of angry bees. I blinked away tears and battled to stay upright as Finch moved. Suddenly he was behind me, his arm around my waist. Something cold and sharp bit into my throat.

  A knife.

  "Emily!" Adelaide screamed again.
>
  Onlookers emerged up and down the street, their lamps and candles glowing like faint stars. In the distance I heard a constable's whistle but it was far away. Too far.

  "Unhand her!" Lord Preston bellowed. Thank God he'd regained his sense of command although I doubted it would do any good.

  Finch certainly didn't cower. The knife pierced my skin. His breath came hot and moist in my ear as he chanted. I could feel his heart beating at my back, as rapid and erratic as my own. But his hand didn't shake. His life depended on keeping control of the weapon.

  Off to our right, everyone either watched the strange spectacle of the demon or had their gazes on me. Adelaide, unaware that her brother's ghost was barely keeping a shape-shifting demon at bay, grew frantic. "Father! He's going to hurt her!"

  "Stay," Finch commanded them in between muttering the lyrical chant.

  The servants waited for their master to give an order. But any order to attack Finch would only bring about my death.

  I closed my eyes.

  An almighty roar from Jacob had me opening them again, just in time to see him throw himself at the demon. They toppled together. Finch gave a frustrated grunt and, miraculously, his grip on my coat loosened. It was enough. Just. I delved down inside my cloak and pulled the amulet up from beneath my gown.

  I began the curse that Celia had taught me to send the demon back.

  "Bitch!" Finch snarled. He snatched the amulet out of my hand, ripping the leather strip from my neck. "What d'you think you're doin', eh?"

  The whack of the demon’s head hitting the gutter forced us both to turn back to the fight. The creature, still in human form but with shadows swirling where there should have been a face, lay on the ground. It groaned and didn't get up. Jacob had used Finch's break in concentration when he took the amulet to deliver a knockout blow.

  Finch growled low in his throat then began his chants again in earnest. The demon groaned but failed to rise. Finch swore and tried again. Still nothing.

  Jacob glanced at me. He neither breathed hard nor sweated like a live person would after a fight but his hair was disheveled and his shirt torn. He stood there, fists pumping at his sides, and watched me with an expression I couldn't make out in the dimness.

  Just watched.

  "Jacob?" He could be at my side in seconds. With invisibility on his side, he could surprise Finch and snatch the knife away.

  But he did not.

  He didn't move in my direction at all. He just looked at me. And then he let out a low, primal wail like he was in pain. But he could not feel physical pain so—.

  The demon stood up.

  "Jacob, look out!"

  He swung round and engaged the demon again. They tumbled together in the smudged edge of the lamp's light, limbs tangled, the smack of fists and the grunts of exertion the only sounds.

  Behind me, Finch chuckled. "Your ghost lover wants you to join 'im, eh?" he said between chants.

  I stared straight ahead, not quite at Jacob, not at anything. My heart had skidded to a stop in my chest. I felt hollow, empty.

  Alone.

  The notion that Finch might be right...that Jacob had not tried to save me...it was too much to take in. I couldn't even cry even though I was full of tears.

  "You better come wiv me," Finch muttered. His arm squeezed my waist so hard I thought he'd snap me in two.

  I gasped and scrabbled at his hands, tried to dig in my heels and plant myself on the spot.

  But he was too strong. My attempts didn't even make him pause.

  On the main landing, Adelaide also gasped but smothered most of it with a hand over her mouth.

  Before I could turn and follow her wide-eyed gaze, a loud whump echoed through the night. Finch's grip slackened, he dropped the knife then slipped to the ground with as much grace as a rag doll. Behind him stood Lady Preston, a brass candelabra in her hand and angry triumph on her face.

  I kicked the knife away and stepped out of Finch's reach. A footmen descended on him and stood guard. It all happened so fast. Adelaide ran down the stairs and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. Her mother calmly handed the candelabra to a maid and went to her husband. He folded her against his chest and rested his chin on her head, the sword loose at his side. His gaze returned to where Jacob and the demon fought.

  But the demon suddenly spun round and fled. With a roar of frustration, Jacob chased it. I went to follow but Adelaide held me back.

  "No," she said. "It's much too dangerous."

  Behind me, the footman gave a short grunt. I spun round, just in time to see him stumbling backwards and Finch fleeing in the opposite direction to the demon and Jacob. The thick fog enveloped him before I could react with anything more than a gasp.

  "Fool!" Lord Preston shouted at the hapless footman.

  The servant rubbed his knee where Finch must have kicked him and shrugged an apology to me. I tried to reassure him but it was impossible to feel anything but a terrible fear pressing down on my chest.

  The pressure eased slightly when Jacob returned. "Gone," he said. "It was too fast." He frowned. "Where's Finch?"

  "Also gone," I said. "And he has the amulet."

  Jacob paused then crouched down, the fingers of one hand on the pavement to balance himself. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. As I watched, his shirt mended itself as did the small cuts on his lip and cheek. The skin simply re-covered them. There had been no blood of course and the skin was neither new nor pink. If his hair hadn't remained messy there would have been no evidence of the fight at all.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "Don't come near me." He rubbed a hand through his hair and studied the ground near his feet. "Damn it!" He slammed his fist onto the pavement and a guttural growl tore from his throat. It was full of desperation, anger, hurt and so many more emotions I couldn't identify. It ripped through the blanket of night, shot through my heart.

  I pulled away from Adelaide and went to him but he got to his feet and moved to the edge of the light where I couldn't quite make out his features. "Don't," he said again. His voice sounded raw, not his own.

  Adelaide came up beside me and held up her lamp. "My brother...he's here?"

  I nodded. I couldn't speak. I wanted to go to Jacob, wanted to hold him. But he didn't want me near.

  "Where?" Lady Preston joined her daughter and together they looked at the bent lamp post as if Jacob's ghost was there. "Where's my son?"

  I waved in his direction.

  "Can we speak to him?"

  "I don't want to talk," Jacob said. He moved even further into the shadows so that only his silhouette was visible to me.

  "Another time," I said through a tight, full throat.

  Lady Preston's face crumpled, tears filled her eyes. Adelaide hugged her.

  "He and I have Otherworld business to finish," I said quickly. "We'll return another day." It was the best I could manage when my thoughts were so jumbled together I could barely think let alone speak.

  "Leave us!" It was Lord Preston, stomping down the stairs. As he spoke, two constables rushed up and took in the scene, truncheons poised to strike. "Move her on," he said, pointing at me. "She's not wanted here."

  "But Father, she—."

  "She's not wanted!" His bellow would have been heard up and down the street, despite the dense fog deadening it. The lights from the neighbors' lamps disappeared back inside their homes. I could only imagine what they must think of the events of this night and how it would be recounted in the clubs and coffee houses tomorrow. How would they explain what they'd seen? How much could they see? Certainly not the demon's changing faces.

  "Jacob is here," Lady Preston said in a quiet voice, so steady compared to the first time we met but still small and thin like a child's. "He's busy now but he'll return soon."

  Lord Preston took his wife's hand, looped it through his arm and patted it. "Go inside, my dear. Both of you. I'll sort this out and join you soon."

  Adelaide didn't move as the
constables approached me. "No, Father," she said, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. "You'll not treat her like a criminal. She's done nothing wrong."

  "She can see Jacob," Lady Preston said, still staring off in the direction of her son. Jacob remained in the darkness but I could feel his presence as strongly as ever. It was troubled. And so very angry.

  "It's all right," I said to Adelaide. "We have to go anyway."

  "We." Lord Preston snorted. "You're very good, Miss Chambers. A genius at theatre."

  "Theatre!" Adelaide cried, fists clenched at her sides. "Father—."

  "Silence! Inside, both of you."

  Lady Preston meekly climbed the stairs but kept looking over her shoulder into the shadows. Adelaide sighed and touched my arm. I nodded at her to go. It wasn't her battle and I didn't want her to be punished on my account.

  "This is not theatre, Lord Preston," I said when they were gone. It was difficult to inject any real enthusiasm into the words. I just wanted to leave, with Jacob.

  "You made all this up," the viscount said, nodding at the bent lamp post. "You're probably in league with that boy, the one who held the knife to you. And Forbes."

  "Your butler? Of course not. He was a victim—."

  "I saw his face!" he shouted. Even in the poor light I knew his cheeks were turning a mottled red. "There." He nodded at the spot where Jacob and the demon had fought. "Doing just as good a job of pretending as both of you degenerates. I don't know why he'd want to hurt my family like this after so many years of good service..."

  "Forbes is dead," I spat as I shook off the constable who reached for me. I'd had enough. Enough of being doubted, enough of being ridiculed, enough of being treated differently to everyone else. "A demon killed him and took on his form. That's how it got into your house. Didn't you see it just now? It was fighting your son's ghost. Jacob saved us by keeping it occupied. All of us."

  "Forget it!" Jacob hurtled out of the shadows and snatched at my hand. Despite all his exertion, it was still cool. It always would be. "You're wasting your breath speaking to him."

  "Miss," one of the constables said. "Don't make this hard for yourself, miss."